


Came Back to Me

by FagurFiskur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Photographer Dean, Police Officer Castiel, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6409897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some eight years after Dean unexpectedly leaves Lawrence, and his boyfriend, for a job in Chicago, he is forced to return when his mother is shot and killed in a gas station robbery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Came Back to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avyssoseleison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/gifts).



> written for my dear miriam! prompt at the bottom for spoiler reasons
> 
> title from 'this love' by taylor swift

Castiel had seen dead bodies before. He’d been a police officer for almost eight years and although he wasn’t a homicide detective, certain realities couldn’t be avoided when you’d been on the job this long.

But he’d never seen the body of someone he’d once known. It felt surreal, as if he were looking at an image on a TV screen rather than a real person. Her lower abdomen was covered with blood, the shot wound still bleeding sluggishly even though her eyes were glazed over and unseeing. Her golden hair, spread on the floor where she’d fallen, looked like a halo surrounding her head.

It was a gas station robbery gone wrong. The gun had gone off by accident according to the killer, and given that he was around eighteen years old and had been curled up in the corner sobbing when they’d arrived, Castiel was inclined to believe him.

Castiel’s revere was broken when his partner kneeled down next to the body and reached for her purse.

“We don’t need identification,” Castiel heard himself say. “I know… I knew her.”

Hannah glanced up at him. “You did?”

“Yes. Her name was Mary Winchester.”

 

Hannah offered to contact Mary’s relatives, but Castiel knew he should be the one to do it. There was no way to make this hurt any less for Sam or Dean but hearing it from someone familiar might bring them some minimal comfort. Neither one of them lived in Lawrence anymore, which meant the news would have to be delivered via telephone.

He called Dean first. 

Dean picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

His voice sounded deeper, Castiel distantly noted. “Dean Winchester?” 

“Yeah?”

Castiel swallowed. There was a protocol he should follow here. He knew exactly what he should say. “It’s- it’s Castiel.”

That was not it.

“Cas?” Dean sounded surprised but his voice was otherwise impossible to read. “Fuck, man. I wasn’t expecting – it’s been _years_.”

Eight years, if you wanted to be exact. “This isn’t a personal call. I’m calling on behalf of the Lawrence Police Department. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. “What is it?”

“It’s...” Castiel steeled himself. “It’s your mother. There was a robbery at a Gas-N-Sip, and she…”

“What happened?” Dean demanded. “Is she hurt?”

Castiel closed his eyes. Perhaps he should have left this task to someone else, who could have known the right thing to say. But there was no right thing to say in this situation. “She’s dead.”

“No.” Dean’s response came quickly, his voice flat. “You’re wrong. This has to be a mistake-”

“I saw her,” Castiel cut in. “Dean, I saw her. There’s no mistake.”

“I just talked to her- I called her, a couple of days ago. She’s not…. she can’t be…”

Dean’s voice broke down, his breath hitching. Castiel squeezed the telephone tighter, wishing that he could somehow be at Dean’s side right now, or just make sure that _someone_ was. He shouldn’t be alone.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

There was no response from Dean, save for muffled sobs.

 

The funeral was held two weeks later. Castiel heard that Sam and Dean had arrived a few days prior but he saw neither of them until he arrived at the church. They sat in the front row and Castiel caught a brief glimpse of them from the side before sitting down in the second, on the other side of the aisle. Sam sat next to a pretty blonde, his hand held in both of hers, eyes red-rimmed. Dean was on his other side, his face pale and void of any emotion. It didn’t change for the next hour.

Castiel approached him after the service.

“My condolences.”

Dean blinked but otherwise didn’t react. “Thanks.”

Castiel shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say next. There had to be something he should say, some words of comfort perhaps. But he’d always had a difficult time with words even at the best of times. Right now, he was speechless.

“I see Sam came here with someone,” he finally settled on, and it felt like a terrible idea as soon as he’d finished speaking.

But Dean’s lips quirked in a smile. It was barely-there and gone in an instant, but it was something. “Yeah, Jess. She’s been good to him.”

“That’s good.” Castiel hesitated. “Did you… come here with someone?”

 “Jeez, Cas, hitting on me at my mom’s funeral? That’s kinda tasteless.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean snorted, the sound hollow and humorless. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

“I just meant… do you have someone to take care of you?”

“Don’t need it,” Dean replied, his words so quick Castiel suspected it was far from the first time he’d said them. “I’m an adult, I can handle myself.”

“Needing support is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Castiel silently cursed himself when Dean’s expression went blank again. He should’ve known better than to say that; Dean had never liked the idea of needing anyone. Even when he really did. Hell, especially then. It had always been a sore topic between them.

“Just let me know if you’d like help with anything,” he added.

Dean shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

 

_2008_

“You see the moving van down the street?”

Castiel nodded absentmindedly, not looking up when Meg entered. “How does salmon picatta sound to you?”

“Delicious,” Meg deadpanned, walking up to Castiel and snatching the book from his hands. “Aren’t you curious about our new neighbors?”

“Not particularly.”

“There’s two of them,” Meg continued anyway. “A redhead and a big, kinda beefy guy. Very pretty.”

Castiel perked up despite himself.

“I was thinking of going over there,” Meg said, voice casual as if she didn’t know she already had Castiel’s attention. “Y’know, welcome them to the neighborhood.”

Castiel cleared his throat, trying to ignore Meg’s knowing grin. “I suppose that’s only polite.”

 

The moving van was parked just one block down. There was a small group of people carrying boxes inside and Castiel wondered for a moment how Meg had figured out which of them were moving in before a red-haired girl waved at them.

“Back so soon?” she called.

Meg sauntered closer to her, a familiar tilt to her hips. “Just went to pick up the old man.”

The red-haired girl glanced between them. “Oh?”

“Roommate,” Meg added.

“Oh.” The girl smiled. She nodded at Castiel. “I’d shake your hand, but,” she raised the box in her hands. “I’m Charlie Bradbury.”

“Castiel Novak.”

“Nice to meet you,” Charlie said cheerfully. She looked over her shoulder and called, “Dean! Come say hi to the nice people!”

“What?” A man in a tanktop came to the door and _oh_ , Meg hadn’t been kidding. ‘Pretty’ was putting it lightly. “Who’re you?”

“Neighbors,” Meg drawled, glancing at Castiel, whose throat suddenly felt dry.

Dean looked between them.

“We’re just roommates,” Castiel felt the sudden need to clarify. “We’re not together. Not like…”

He trailed off, wishing the ground would just swallow him whole already. A few seconds in front of the handsome new neighbor and he’d already made a fool of himself. This was why he didn’t date.

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, an enigmatic smile on his face. He walked up to them, offering his hand to Castiel, who accepted hesitantly. Dean’s hand was slightly smaller than Castiel’s and they fit so nicely together. “So are we, for the record.”

“Huh?”

“Charlie and I,” Dean said, still smiling. “Just roommates.”

And he squeezed Castiel’s hands tightly before letting go, his fingers trailing against Castiel’s palm as he did. Castiel swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “I- I see.”

*

_2016_

It just made sense. Sam and Jess were gone, since Sam’s asshole of a boss had only given him a week off, and they’d be taking care of the legal paperwork. Dean, on the other hand, could stay in Lawrence for the next month so he’d taken on the job of going through Mom’s stuff. That was a long time to pay for a motel room and he didn’t know anyone in Lawrence anymore that he felt comfortable crashing with. He’d be at Mom’s house most of the time anyway.

Still didn’t make it any easier moving into her room less than a week after the funeral.

The house was just as Dean remembered. Slightly cluttered, a little messy, but warm and welcoming. Mom’s slippers were still on the living room floor, as if waiting for her to pick them up and put them on. Her coat had been on the floor in the foyer when Dean first arrived, along with the hook that kept coming loose.

The one thing that wasn’t the same was the mess in the refrigerator. No one had been here since before Mom… in a couple of weeks, so the milk and the leftovers were all spoiled and gave off a pungent stink. Dean spent most of his first day in Mom’s house throwing out everything that had a suspicious smell and cleaning the fridge.

That evening he went shopping for some fresh food and, because apparently his life wasn’t complicated enough at the moment, ran into Cas.

Dean honestly wasn’t sure how to act around him. He was barely keeping it together as was, never mind all the complicated history between them. But the least he could do was say hello.

He regretted it immediately when Cas looked at him with those big, sad eyes. “How are you?”

_Terrible. Like someone ripped out my heart. I keep forgetting she’s dead and remembering it and it’s like she’s dying over and over again_. “I’m fine.”

“Dean, no one in your position would be fine.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged. “Nothing anyone can do about it.”

“I heard Sam and Jess have gone back to California.”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Way to make a guy feel welcome,” Dean said dryly.

“You know that’s not what I-” Cas huffed, and Dean felt a strange urge to laugh. Seemed even after all these years he could still get under Cas’ skin.

“Someone’s gotta go through Mom’s stuff.”

“And you’re doing that by yourself?”

Dean smiled grimly. “Who else is gonna do it? Sam’s taking care of all the legal stuff, so it’s the least I can do.”

Cas gave him an inscrutable look. After a few moments, he said, “Hand me your phone.”

Dean blinked. “My-”

“Your phone, Dean.”

Cas held out his hand and, bewildered, Dean reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. He watched as Cas went into his contacts and created a new one, handing Dean his phone back once he was done.

“Please don’t hesitate to call,” Cas said. “At the very least I could carry some boxes for you.”

“Cas, I don’t need-”

“I _want_ to help,” Cas cut in.

Dean pressed his lips together, but he was too tired to get into an argument in the middle of the fresh produce aisle. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

That night, Dean tossed and turned for ages. He’d changed the sheets on Mom’s bed and even flipped the mattress but her scent had lingered (something kind of citrusy, had to be her shampoo) and ultimately he settled for the couch. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of some sort of presence, and when he finally fell into a fitful sleep, he dreamed of a dark silhouette pinned to the ceiling above him, bleeding from its abdomen. He woke up sweating and shaking.

Why the hell had he read the coroner’s report?

He sat up, feeling both on the verge of crying and throwing up. He drew big, gulping breaths but his lungs still felt empty, his vision swimming, his skin feeling hot and tight around him.

With shaking hands, he reached for his phone on the coffee table and looked up Cas’ number. It was only two rings before Cas answered.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Dean let out a sound that might have been laughter, his heart seizing with relief at the sound of another person’s voice. “Cas?”

“Dean.” The annoyance disappeared from Cas’ voice, replaced with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“B-bad dream,” Dean muttered, cheeks flaming. “I c-can’t breathe.”

“Draw in a deep breath through your nose and count to three,” Cas instructed, sounding like he’d recited this a hundred times before. Hell, he probably had. “Then exhale through your mouth and try to keep your muscles relaxed.”

Dean nodded even though Cas couldn’t see him and did as instructed. He wasn’t aware how long he kept doing it but after a while he started to feel closer to normal, his heartbeat slowing bit by bit.

“Where are you?” Cas asked.

“Mom’s place,” Dean said.

A beat. Then, “I’m coming to get you. Keep focusing on your breathing, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Cas hung up but Dean stayed on the line, crouched over and clinging to the phone. He breathed and counted, the visions from his nightmare still dancing in the edge of his mind. It felt like an eternity before his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

He put the phone down and clambered to his feet, not realizing that he was only in his boxers until he opened the doors and was greeted by the chilly midnight breeze. In the next instant, Cas was stepping inside and wrapping his arms around him, and Dean half-collapsed against him gratefully.

“You shouldn’t be staying here alone,” was the first thing Cas said, quiet and careful into Dean’s ear.

“I know,” Dean admitted. He felt pathetically close to tears so he took a couple of steps back. “Um, I’m gonna get dressed.”

“Did you get a chance to unpack yet?” Dean shook his head. “Where’s your bag?”

“Living room.”

Cas nodded and walked past him. Dean closed the doors and followed, quickly getting dressed as Cas found his duffle.

“I’ve got a guest bedroom,” Cas told him. “You can stay there as long as you’re in Lawrence.”

“Okay,” Dean said, fighting the urge to ask him _why_.

 

_2008_

Dean never wanted to get out of bed again.

“You’ve got work,” Cas muttered when he said as much, but he still pulled Dean closer, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck.

“Screw work.”

He felt Cas smile against his skin. “They’re gonna give your job to someone else.”

“Good,” Dean sighed. “Then I can stay.”

The alarm went off and Dean turned just enough to hit the snooze button, again.

Cas poked his stomach. “Dean.”

“Ugh.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Fine, I’m getting up.”

He untangled his limbs from Cas’ and sat up. Cas reached for his shoulder, tugging insistently until Dean leaned down and gave him a kiss. They both had morning breath and he laughed when he felt Cas grimace.

“Okay, I’m going,” he said, not moving.

Cas hummed against his lips. “Okay. I love you.”

It slipped out so casually, it took a moment to sink in. Cas didn’t seem to realize what he’d just said, lying back down and settling in to sleep some more, but Dean sat frozen, staring at him.

“Uh, see you later,” he finally mumbled, standing up and gathering his clothes that lay scattered around the floor as quickly as he could.

*

_2016_

The Captain was understanding, if a little annoyed, when Castiel called requesting a day off the next morning. He wasn’t going to let Dean go back to his mother’s house by himself but he knew there was no keeping Dean away from there if he’d already set his mind on going.

It was almost noon by the time Dean came out of the guest bedroom, looking well-rested if morose. Castiel wordlessly pulled up a pan, eggs and some bacon. Dean watched as he cooked, tense silence resting over them.

Finally, Dean said, “Um, thanks. For last night.”

“Of course,” Castiel said softly, glancing up from the pan. Dean wasn’t looking at him, eyes cast down on the kitchen counter. “Were you planning on going back there today?”

He was already sure of the answer and Dean confirmed it with a curt nod. “There’s a lot of stuff to go through. Might as well start now.”

“I’m coming with you,” Castiel said.

Dean’s head snapped up. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m coming,” Castiel repeated, in a voice that allowed no argument.

 

Dean was quiet on the drive over, his expression pinched and fists clenched in his lap. It wasn’t until they reached Mary’s house, until they were standing outside her door, that the smallest crack appeared in his demeanor.

He stopped just short of her doorstep. Castiel watched him carefully for any signs of panic, but his expression remained the same. Instead, he reached for Castiel’s sleeve and grabbed onto it with his fingers, like a child clutching for their parent.

“Let’s go inside,” Castiel said gently, and Dean nodded.

He hadn’t paid any attention to the place the previous night but it looked deceptively normal. Like its occupant was still living, perhaps just out for the day.

“Where do you wanna start?”

Dean looked around. After a little while, he said, “The bedroom.”

He let go of Castiel’s sleeve, fingertips trailing softly against the back of his hand before he walked past him, into the bedroom. Castiel followed, feeling oddly like an intruder.

“Let’s start with her clothes,” Dean said, nodding towards the closet. “That’s all going to Goodwill.”

It probably wasn’t advisable for Dean to be going through his mother’s clothes – or even be back here, so soon – but Castiel knew trying to pry him away now would only lead to arguing. So he held his tongue and nodded, and they began working in silence.

Dean was fine, or appeared to be, at first. It wasn’t until the first half hour had passed that Castiel turned and found him standing frozen by the wardrobe, holding a white dress.

“Dean?”

For a couple of moments, Dean didn’t react. Then he seemed to shake himself. “Um, her nightgown. She’s had it for… years.”

“You don’t need to give that away,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean shook his head and put the gown on the bed. “What’s the point in holding onto it? Not like it’s gonna bring me any closer to her. She’s still-” He cut himself off, pinching his lips together. For a moment, Castiel could see his lower lip quivering. “She’s still gone.”

Castiel put the bag of clothes in his hand down and crossed the distance between them in a couple of steps. He wrapped his arms around Dean, just as he had the night before, and just as before, Dean immediately went pliant against him. The difference was, this time around Castiel was conscious of every small detail; of Dean’s breath hitching in his chest, the tears wetting Castiel’s neck and shoulder, the way Dean slowly returned Castiel’s embrace, wrapping his arms low around his back and pulling him even closer.

After a short while, Dean seemed to calm.

“I think we’ve done enough today,” Castiel ventured carefully.

Dean huffed. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse.

 

“I guess I should wait a couple of weeks before going back there, huh?”

Castiel blinked, mouth freezing mid-chew around a juicy bite of hamburger. They’d gone to a diner a little ways away once Dean had calmed; neither one of them was exactly hungry but Castiel had wanted to do something nice and greasy food had always been a comfort for them both.

Despite Dean’s easy concession that he shouldn’t do more for the day, Castiel hadn’t been expecting this.

“And I guess I should get more people to help,” he continued, either ignorant of or ignoring Castiel’s shocked expression. “Charlie still lives around here, I think she’d be up for it if I asked her.”

Castiel swallowed his food. “What will you do in the meantime?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve got work off, so I’ll stay in Lawrence. I might take the camera out, get a couple of shots that won’t end up in furniture ads or something.”

“You’re still working for Men of Letters Advertising?”

“It pays the bills.” Dean cleared his throat, looking suddenly bashful. “And it’s not like that’s all I do. I’ve sold a few shots independently. I’ve even won a couple of contests.”

Castiel smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Dean ducked his head, but Castiel could see a small, pleased smile. “Uh, yeah. I mostly do ads though.”

“Will you keep staying with me while you’re here?” Castiel asked, sensing that Dean wanted a change of topic.

“If you’ll let me. But I don’t wanna cramp your style,” Dean added, clearly attempting to sound casual. “If you wanna bring someone over…”

“I won’t,” Castiel assured him. “I’m not much for… since you left, I’ve only-” he hesitated, unsure of how much information it would be appropriate to give. The rules had always seemed to be different when it came to him and Dean, though, so he finished, “I’ve only slept with two people, and they were both long-term relationships.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “That’s- two, huh?”

“It’s been a while,” Castiel admitted. “But I don’t mind it. I’ve never been much for romantic entanglements.”

“Except with me,” Dean said quietly.

He looked like he regretted saying it in the next moment but Castiel nodded. “Except with you.”

Dean glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. “I never told you I was sorry, did I?”

“You don’t need to-”

“But you deserve to hear it,” Dean cut in. “‘Cause that was a shitty thing I did and I _am_ sorry. It’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

Castiel swallowed. He’d fantasized about hearing this apology more often than he could count. The first weeks after Dean had left, he’d spent hours thinking how he might come back and how they would make things right again. The next weeks after that, the fantasies changed and ended with Castiel slamming the door in Dean’s sorry face.

(Those fantasies had always been unsatisfying, though. Even with the wound so fresh, Castiel had just wanted Dean back.)

It was a long time since Castiel had stopped dreaming, and the situation was nothing like he’d ever imagined. Even if some part of him felt relief at hearing Dean’s apology, the biggest part of him had long since forgiven him.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said. “But you don’t need to feel sorry anymore. I moved on a long time ago.”

Dean blinked. “Um, that’s… good. I’m glad.”

He didn’t look particularly glad, but Castiel supposed that was only natural. It had been an exhausting day and it was only half over.

 

_2008_

Castiel’s apartment was empty when he got home from work. It was disconcerting; even if Dean had been acting distant for the past few days, Castiel had still grown used to him being around.

The uneasy feeling only grew when he entered his kitchen and spotted a folded piece of paper bearing his name on the kitchen counter.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Castiel reached for the paper and unfolded it.

_Cas,_

_Men of Letters ad. offered me a better position in Chicago a couple of weeks back. I took it. Sorry to leave things like this but it’s better this way. I’m no good for you and I’d only screw things up worse down the line._

_Dean._

Castiel blinked, his sight suddenly blurry. He put the letter back down the counter and ran out the door and down the street. He arrived at Dean’s door in seconds and knocked furiously but somewhere, below the haze of hurt and anger, he already knew it was too late.

He kept knocking anyway, until his knuckles started to hurt. Finally, he lowered his hand and turned around, leaning his back against the door as he fought to hold back tears. The reality of the situation began to sink in.

There would be no fixing this. Dean was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

 

_2016_

True to his word, Dean didn’t return to Mary’s house for the next two weeks. Castiel went back to work so he didn’t know much of what Dean did during the day but he seemed, if not happy, then content most evenings.

They settled into a comfortable routine. At his own insistence, Dean bought the groceries and cooked (“I don’t wanna be a total freeloader here, let me be useful.”) and they always ate dinner together. They talked a lot; about Castiel’s work, about Dean’s photography, about Meg and Charlie and Sam. They steered cleared of any talk about the past, and it wasn’t long before Castiel realized he’d gotten used to this.

It was foolish of him not to have seen it coming, not to at least try to prevent it, but Castiel was falling back in love with Dean. He was so different from the young man Castiel had known, and grief made him subdued and withdrawn, but in all the important ways he was still the same as ever. He was still kind, still caring, if a bit abrasive and rough, still capable of making Castiel’s heart race just with a well-placed look or a genuine smile.

But he would also be leaving again in just a few weeks. Pursuing anything more would be stupid, especially since Dean was still grieving. He didn’t need a romantic relationship right now, he needed a friend.

It hurt, but Castiel knew it was for the best to keep his feelings to himself.  

*

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean smiled half-heartedly and gave Cas a small wave before closing the door of the guest bedroom behind him. He felt wrung-out, even though he hadn’t done any actual work in hours; he’d spent most of the afternoon watching reruns of old sitcoms. He took a couple of unsure steps into the room, then paused halfway between the bed and the door.

The bed looked warm and inviting but Dean had no desire to lie in it. He didn’t want to be alone right now, already knew he wouldn’t be sleeping well if he did.

More than anything, he wanted to go across the living room and crawl into Cas’ bed with him. His head had been a mess of hurt and confusion for the past few weeks but being around Cas made him calmer. Even if their relationship had never exactly been simple, let alone now. Dean wasn’t even sure how he felt about Cas, other than that he wanted to be near him.

But Cas was _over him_. He’d said as much. With everything going on, the last thing Dean needed was to get rejected.

Dean’s heart seized in his chest and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. With everything going on… for a moment, he’d forgotten about Mom. What the hell was he doing, thinking about his love life at a time like this? Digging through the past, dragging up old issues and worrying about whether Cas was over him or not, when he should be grieving. What the hell kind of son was he? What would Mom say if she could see him now?

_…She’d say she wants me to be happy._

The realization felt like a heavy weight being lifted off his chest. Of course she’d want him to be happy. And she’d also tell him he was being stupid, working himself up over this when he could just go and talk to Cas. After all, life was short.

Dean turned around, walking back for the door and out into the living room. It was empty and the lights had been turned off, so Dean headed for Cas’ bedroom.

The door was ajar, so Dean pushed it open and peered inside.

Cas was in bed, book in hand and the lamp on the nightstand turned on. He looked up when Dean poked his head inside. “Is everything alright?”

“Um…” Dean flushed. He felt like an idiot, coming here and asking when Cas had made it clear he had moved on, but he couldn’t give up without at least asking. “Can I bunk with you?”

Cas’ mouth formed a quiet ‘oh’.

“And don’t say yes out of pity or some misplaced sense of duty or whatever,” Dean hurriedly added. “Just… do you want me here?”

“Of course,” Cas said softly, without hesitation.

Dean swallowed. “Okay.” He stepped into the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He somehow felt even more awkward, now that he knew Cas wasn’t turning him away. “Uh, great.”

Cas put his book down and pulled the covers aside. Dean walked over, stomach swooping when Cas looked up at him, lips parted in wordless anticipation. As Dean crawled into the bed next to him, Cas laid down as well, leaving only a small gap between them.

“Well,” Dean licked his lips, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Cas muttered softly, eyes darting down to Dean’s lips before he turned around to turn off the lamp, casting the room into darkness.

 

Dean woke up slowly, feeling groggy but warm and comfortable. He had no idea when he’d fallen asleep but he must have drifted off soon after Cas turned off the light.

He suddenly became aware of the arm wrapped around his middle and the body pressed against his back. Then Cas shifted, and he noticed the hard-on poking his butt cheek as well. A sluggish bolt of lust ran down Dean’s spine. For the first time he could remember in a little while, he felt kind of horny.

He tried rolling his hips back and was rewarded with a soft groan against the back of his neck.

“Wha-” Cas mumbled.

“Awake?” Dean asked quietly.

Cas shifted again and Dean could spot the moment he realized their situation because he suddenly froze. “Oh. I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” Dean cut in.

He turned around and, seeing Cas’ features still soft with sleep and his hair standing up every which way, couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing him. Cas surged against him, letting out a nearly-pained noise as he enthusiastically returned the kiss.

Dean slotted his thigh between Cas’ legs, letting Cas rut against it. They kept kissing, sloppy and lazy and kind of unpleasant due to morning breath but still somehow perfect. Cas kept gasping and making small noises and it wasn’t more than a few minutes before he was stiffening and coming against Dean’s leg, breaking the kiss to moan into the crook of his neck.

Dean held him even closer as he rode out his orgasm, his own dick stirring but not quite going hard. When Cas had recovered and reached for his cock, Dean batted his hand away.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered.

“I wanna get you off, too,” Cas said petulantly.

Dean snorted. “Later, okay?”

“Later?” Cas repeated. It was impossible to read anything from his tone than mild curiosity. “So this will happen again?”

“I want it to,” Dean said honestly. “I don’t… I’m not sure what we are here but I know this is more than a one-time thing. Right?”

Cas didn’t answer right away. “I don’t want to push you,” he finally said, “but this can’t just be sex. And I can’t do it if you’re going to leave again.”

Dean swallowed. This should be complicated. He had a life back in Chicago. Even if he’d never felt at home there like he did in Lawrence, he’d still lived there for the past eight years. He had a job there, friends, opportunities. That should be giving him some pause.

But he already knew that even if he spent weeks or months pouring over it, his answer would be the same.

“I’m not leaving again. I want to stay in Lawrence.”

_With you,_ went unsaid but Dean was sure Cas heard it anyway. He raised his hand, cupping Dean’s cheek and bringing him in for another, brief kiss. “Good.”

*

They returned to Mary’s house just a few days later, this time with a small team of old friends Charlie had insisted on bringing to help. Dean split down the tasks and gave everyone a room to sort through, leaving the bedroom once again to just him and Castiel.

“I won’t break down this time,” he said with a grin, although Castiel saw nothing funny about the situation.

The bags full of clothes were still there from last time, untouched, as was Mary’s nightgown on the bed. Dean stared down at it for a few seconds, then reached down and rearranged it until it was splayed out.

“I just gotta do this real quick,” he said.

He’d brought a backpack and as he now shook it off and reached into it, Castiel could see it contained his camera. After a few small adjustments to the lens, he pointed it at the gown on the bed and snapped a picture.

“I’m gonna give it away,” he said softly. “But I wanted to- I don’t know, say goodbye to it first, I guess.” He lowered the camera and gave Castiel a self-conscious look. “Does that sound stupid? It’s just… she died so suddenly, but I feel like she’s not completely gone until we’ve taken care of everything.” He scratched the back of his neck. “That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Castiel assured him.

Dean didn’t quite seem to believe him but he smiled, before turning back to the gown and taking a couple of pictures more. Once he was done, he put the camera down and carefully folded the dress, before putting it away in the nearest bag.

“There,” he said, more to himself than to Castiel.

Castiel smiled and walked up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a dumb nightgown,” Dean mumbled, blushing, but he leaned into Castiel anyway. “There’s still a ton of stuff left to do.”

“And we’ll take care of that together,” Castiel assured him.

Dean let out a content sigh and turned his head to give Castiel a proper kiss on the lips. “I like the sound of that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (which I didn't completely follow but close enough): Cop!Cas being called to a house in which Mary W died, who is the mother of Sam and Dean W, the latter of which Cas has enjoyed a brief but passionate affair some years back, until Dean left without notice to study to become a [job] in another city (and also bc he felt he was in too deep with Cas already). Cas helps him with the grief and organization of all the post-mortem stuff, becomes his pillar of support and they slowly grow closer again, this time better paced+with more maturity.


End file.
